Category: Music

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Hunger Strike”

Gainesville has a famous bar called The Salty Dog Saloon, across the street from the University of Florida and just two blocks away from Ben Hill Griffin Stadium. Back in the 1990s, I spent many an evening at The Salty Dog, shooting pool, drinking beer, and inhaling so much second-hand smoke that, as I soon discovered, I could smoke an entire cigarette without coughing, even though I had never officially taken up the habit.

The Salty Dog also had a great jukebox (maybe it still does). And, this being the height of the grunge era, my friends and I played a lot of Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam. Somehow, a joke started among us that the next Godzilla movie should be set in Seattle, where the great kaiju would be battled (and, no doubt, defeated) by the likes of Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, and Kurt Cobain.

It was a dumb joke, but it struck a chord. These guys were the superheroes of rock, cultural warriors that always seemed brilliant, dedicated, and brave. So, in 1993, when two of three, Vedder and Cornell, teamed up to form a super-group called Temple of the Dog, we should have been ecstatic. It was like Batman and Superman joining forces to fight evil (if not Godzilla).

In fact, the band—which was formed by Cornell as a kind of tribute to his late friend and lead singer of Mother Love Bone, Andrew Wood—made very little impact on us. Except for one song: “Hunger Strike.” For a few weeks, it was the practically the only thing on the radio (yes, we still listened to radio in those days). An unlikely duet between Cornell and Vedder, it shows off the vocal strengths of both men, whose voices complement each other in kind of harmonic unity not often heard in alt-rock (and especially not in grunge). I love how Cornell’s magnificent tenor soars high above Vedder’s mournful baritone, which seems to anchor it.

Somehow, through the alchemy of art, the song becomes less of a dirge than a jubilant cry of defiance.

Rock on…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Why Can’t I Be You?”

Everything you need to know about alt-rock in the 1980s can be learned from listening to four bands: The Smiths, Echo & the Bunnymen, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and The Cure. I’ve featured all of these bands except The Cure, so it’s about time, especially considering that they were, in some ways, the most innovative and versatile of the four.

Most people know the song “Just Like Heaven“, and they should because it’s a masterpiece. But I love this song, too, because it’s so strange and powerful. With Robert Smith singing on the edge of his vocal range, his voice breaking and whinging like the embodiment of every teenage neurosis you can think of, “Why Can’t I Be You?” is the ultimate song about Nerd Love.

It’s also a great dance song. (Yes, a danceable goth-rock song. Who knew?) And the horn section is epic. (A goth-rock song with horns? Yes, again!)

Rock on..

Friday Night Rock-Out: “My Body”

I had never heard of Young the Giant until a few months ago, when this song, “My Body,” popped up on the playlist at my gym. I liked the groove so much that I paused my incredibly wimpy set of curls (“Hey, I’m going for tone, dammit. TONE!”), went to my locker, got out my phone, and Googled it. 

The rest is history…

People have compared Young The Giant to The Cure, but they remind me more of Coldplay, but with more of a rock-edge (not to mention a bit more soul). 

Rock on…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Hotel California”

If you’re of a certain age (i.e., over fifty), you probably spent many a summer afternoon in the long-ago past listening to the 45 single of “Hotel California” over and over and over. (You might also have enjoyed a mildly illegal form of herbal, hand-rolled cigarette as you listened.) If you did, you’ve probably read a lot of articles about the song, and heard a lot of interviews by Don Henley or Glenn Frey or others about it, to the point that you probably think you know everything about it. You know, for instance, that Henley and Frey wrote the lyrics in a very short period of time (by some accounts, a few hours; by others, over a weekend). You know that the album cover is a photo of the Beverly Hills Hotel, and that some people think they see a mysterious figure in the bell tower. And you know that the song is really about Hell, or California-as-Hell, or American hedonism, or…something cool like that.  

What you probably don’t know is that song is, primarily, the creation of guitarist Don Felder, who wrote the melody by himself before he even joined the band. As Marty Jourard recounts in his excellent non-fiction book Music Everywhere: The Rock and Roll Roots of a Southern Town:

One afternoon while enjoying his ocean view and no doubt the general situation, Felder sat on his sofa and idly strummed an acoustic twelve-string, eventually refining his musical idea into a carefully crafted guitar arrangement. Using a Teac four-track reel-to-reel recorder, Felder first recorded his Rhythm Ace drum machine playing a cha-cha beat, then added acoustic and electric guitar and bass, then an idea for two solo guitars. Don Henley listened to a cassette mix of this song and more than a dozen others Felder had submitted for consideration and declared this rhythmically complex instrumental the best, giving it a working title of “Mexican Bolero,” and along with Glenn Frey wrote lyrics that transformed Felder’s music demo into “Hotel California,” the title track of the next Eagles album and its first single.

It’s also Felder’s actual guitar playing, along with that of co-lead Joe Walsh, that gives the song its unbelievably haunting tone and its indelible, dark crescendo. I’m not just saying this because Felder, like his childhood friend Tom Petty, is a Gainesville boy like me. Felder is, in fact, one of the most underrated musician/composers in the history of rock-and-roll.

Of course, I don’t mean to denigrate Henley’s and Frey’s brilliant lyrics, gave the song its cachet among the teenage set of the 1970s (and now, even). One thing I’ve noted about “Hotel California” is that is one of those rare examples of a narrative poem (i.e., it tells a continuous story). Also, it’s written in ballad quatrains, with a rhyming scheme of ABCB. How cool is that?

And, yes, I do see a mysterious figure in the bell tower.

Rock on…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Passion”

I must admit that I had never heard of Awolnation until a few years ago when my son played me a couple of their songs. This song, in particular, has a big, anthemic sound of the sort one doesn’t hear very often in alt-rock. I really like it. Even the soft parts sound really, really loud. And lead singer Aaron Bruno has the vocal range to pull it off without sounding like he’s screaming. 

“Passion” is from Awolnation’s 2017 album Here Come the Runts. Rock on…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Boilermaker”

There have been a lot of great rock duos over the years—Hall and Oates, Tears for Fears, The White Stripes, David and David—but there haven’t been that many hard rock duos. I’m guessing this because you typically need a minimum of three musicians to form a hard rock band: a drummer, a bassist, and a lead guitarist. (One of those folks has to sing, too, obviously.)

The great British duo Royal Blood gets around this minimum by ditching the lead guitarist and having their bassist, Mike Kerr, do double-duty. On this little gem, which has become one of my favorites, he is actually playing a distorted bass that sounds like a lead guitar. (Jack White does the same thing on “Seven Nation Army“.)

Anyway, rock on…!

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Rock n’Roll All Night”

The great comedian George Burns once attended an Alice Cooper concert, and he was impressed by all the crazy costumes, make-up, special effects, and over-the-top acting that made that artist famous. Later, he saw Cooper back-stage and told him “You’re the last vaudeville act.” He was right! Cooper was one the first artists to realize that great rock-and-roll can be…well…theater. Especially in its stadium-arena-sized version.

Another band that was quick to pick-up on the theater aspect of rock was Kiss, who hit the cultural pop-scene of 1970s like an earthquake. Yes, they were the silliest rock band of that era (perhaps of any era). Kind of like Spinal Tap, but even dumber. However, if you ignored the make-up and the pleather sci-fi costumes, you realized that Kiss was just a kick-ass, New York City rock-band, with tough-guy lyrics and hard-hitting musicianship. 

Ace Frehley, their great guitarist, passed away yesterday. I thought I would dedicate this episode of my Friday Night Rock-Out series to him by posting my favorite Kiss song. 

Rock on…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “The Man Who Sold the World”

David Bowie was a musical genius. And perhaps the only bad thing about being a musical genius is the possibility that someday another genius might come along and do a cover of one your songs that’s better than the original. That’s what Kurt Cobain did, I think, with this cover, recorded in 1993 on MTV. And he was only twenty-six at the time.

Oh, well. Here, for your entertainment (and, I hope, solace) is a song written by one genius and sung by another, with some really great musicians playing along.

Rock on…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Plush”

Stone Temple Pilots was one of the best—perhaps the best—band to come along in the second generation of Grunge. They were also the most metal, thanks to brilliant guitar work of lead guitarist Dean DeLeo. But it was really the vocal work of lead singer Scott Weiland that made the band great. Otherworldly. Exhilarating, yet chilling, all at the same time.

My favorite STP song is this one, “Plush”, which has one of the most remarkable tempo changes in the history of rock. It never fails to make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. 

And Weiland’s enormously powerful singing was, as was typical of grunge music in general, completely raw. Naked. Unguarded. This was one reason that, when I heard of his death by drug overdose in 2009, I was saddened but not really surprised. Like Kurt Cobain and Chris Cornell and so many other artists, he seemed to feel things too intensely to handle this crazy thing we call Life on Earth.

Or maybe that’s B.S. Maybe he just had an addiction and couldn’t get the right help for it. I don’t know.

Anyway, rock on…